A Drop of Loneliness
by Sky-In-The-Pie
Summary: Oneshot complete fic. Basically romance between Snape and Narcissa. A short insight into one view of the post HBP world.


This is what I call a 'mini fanfic', which is originally from a full story I have written already. Unfortunately, that didn't work out so well, so I thought I would post the major chapter here on its own. There is no background to this, it was just for fun!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter.

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Her body and his met: the physical, pulsing pressure of their touch, their connection. She gasped as his palm found her neck and the sensation coursed through her, strong and primitive, and urged her desire on. Her body shook as she pressed her lips down onto his, and pulled him in closer, so they could feel each other's being as their whole. His solid form caressed hers while she squirmed with pleasure, desperate pleasure. Her hands moved over, touching, feeling the warm pressure of his existence as if she needed it, as if she depended on it.

She laughed, but there was something behind it that did not suggest a simple delight. A desperation to swallow the past and embrace the man above her as a new world clutched his robes and pulled him down, so she fell, with him on top of her. His hair hung down, his eyes focused only on hers, and they locked, seeing everything that each others held for a moment. And again, she clung to him, hungry for more, fulfilling her own desires and immersing herself in his presence with shivers of satisfaction. He remained silent while her moans continued, but eagerly returned the kisses she offered; she pressed herself into him, trying to reach more hidden secrets inside, and their mouths did not part – the two seemed attached, bonded together in a fit of insurmountable, unstoppable passion and lust. A desperate attempt to forget, within each other.

They both knew that their pleasure was nothing but physical attraction: they did not love each other, and never would do - they were merely using the other as a living body to console themselves with, as much as anything. It was a sign of despair on Narcissa's part: a married woman already, the only thing that allowed her to pursue this lust was the fact that her husband was in Azkaban, and therefore oblivious to any other affairs his wife may have. Her regret at his position, and now her son's failure to complete his task, was beginning to make her lose control. To watch her own family crumble in front of her eyes was something she could not take, and yet she was being forced to watch it. So she found refuge in Snape.

Snape had never known love. He had always been alone, from his school days to the present, and even when surrounded by a roomful of people, he isolated himself from them, perceiving himself of a greater status than others. He returned the lust that Narcissa sought with a kind of pity, led on only by the same physical pleasure he derived from their encounters, but knowing it was only an immediate relief from his future. A get out, you could say, so he could forget what he had done, and what was still to do. Here he found an unconditional thrill that was quite unlike anything he had felt before. Not that either of them was happy this way.

The wretched pair continued; groaning, turning and shuddering; entangled within one another, seeking and hoping for nothing any longer. They were past that.

A tear slid from Narcissa's eye and Snape traced it down her cheek with his finger as he lay next to her. His black eyes gave away nothing, and his hair partially covered his face, with its long strands flopping over. Narcissa giggled as if drunk, and brushed the hair out of his eyes. The corners of his mouth twisted, attempting a smile but not quite managing it, even for her. Immersed in each other, there was no other world, nothing else to face, to think of or fear. Only the sadness that they wrapped around themselves lingered.

She opened her eyes wide as the tears began to gush down, and her pathetic form reached out to Snape's once more. This is how it always was these days. Their lips locked desperately again before Narcissa pulled back, to lie facing the ceiling in the dingy room and let the last tears trail down her cheeks. Snape lay watching, feeling as hopeless as she, but inwardly – he was not one to display his feelings.

Finally, Narcissa took a rattling breath and whispered to the ceiling, "How long must this last?" Her pained voice was left time to echo, before Snape's deep but barely audible voice muttered,

"Not long. It will be over soon." There was a resignation in his voice which took even Narcissa by surprise.


End file.
